


Master of None

by Lapinporokoira



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Dragon Ball, One Piece, Original Work, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barely there concepts, I'm Bad At Tagging, Impel Down, Pack Hierarchy, Real world Cats, Science, Serial Killers, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:12:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapinporokoira/pseuds/Lapinporokoira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not a story. This is where I shall posts unfinished works, ideas that never quite went anywhere, works that could do with major re-writes and little bits that just are not worth posting on their own or were written intended for part of a whole that never transpired . In other words I started writing something but for whatever reason I didn't finish and unlikely to do so.   I'll update tags as I go along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All about the battlefield were the defeated and the broken and above them all was the figure of what could only be described as a Demon. A dreaded thing with two long curving horns and red skin that shimmered under a simmering flame. It smiled with white teeth like sharks and eyes slitted like cats. In one clawed hand it held a staff of bone. One of the bodies stirred, trying to stand on weakened legs and the Demon laughed at the attempt in a mocking cruel tone. 

“You dare to face me again pitiful creature? Surely by now you have realised I am your superior in every way?”

“Huff huff I won’t let you win. Huff huff.” There was a note of determination in his opponents breathless voice that caused the Demon to cut off his laugh and instead glaring at the sheer pomp of that statement. 

“Let me win? I have won.” The Demon flicked his wrist and red flames shot from his fingertips. The recovering form cried out as he was consumed. The flames licking at his body even as their sheer force cleaved into the ground to make a crater. The Demon’s laugh returned at the smouldering, burned wreck his attack left behind. Inflicting pain was so amusing. What was not so amusing was the stubborness of his enemies. The figure despite his serious injuries attempted to rise again. The nerve!

Not suffering fools gladly the Demon sent a barrage of flame attacks, devastating the Earth and flinging the body like ragdoll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the beginnings of a Dragonball Z story. I didn't feel it so this is all there was.


	2. Original Work: Werewolf type concept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuma here and his companion (Nino) are two characters that have been rattling in my head for years. The concept is of wolves who can change into men or men who can change into wolves. Even they are not sure which. Namely they spend time between forms. The idea was just a world builder. Also of note is that I had the idea of an Alpha/Beta/Omega type society before I even knew it existed in fandom. Suffice to say ,mine is more on a hierarchy level then anything truly sexual. And there is no such thing as Omega heats. In this world I thought up. Omegas are essentially asexual.

Yuma was not used to having a pack again. It had been a long time since he had shared the warmth of another Lupuria. The last time being with his birth pack oh so long ago now. It had never been a comfortable fit despite the blood that bound them. It was why he had to leave. Pack just never sat right with him. Yuma was all Nomad. Or he used to be. It had felt right. It had felt natural. Yet now sharing the warmth of another of his kind again felt just as right. Or rather it felt right with this particular Lupuria. The many females he had conquered in his nomad state never felt right in the aftermath. It was all fuck and flee to him. It had never stuck. 

The body shifted against his own, snuggling tighter against his stomach. Worming into his warmth. Yuma adjusted himself to allow it, even going so far as to let his tongue sooth over the grey furred head of his companion. Fixing that little straggle of fur that had fluffed out in the rearrangement. His companion’s breathing hitched briefly, followed by a gentle shudder. Yuma could even feel the heartbeat against his own beat a little faster. He chuffed lightly, a note of friendship, and the body curled tight to him settled again. 

It saddened Yuma a little bit. His avoidance of Reyche (Body contact) was just natural inclination, but his companion’s reaction suggested Reyche was something never given, or as the events that led Yuma to this situation, something that was forced upon. In either case it was a terrible shame that any Lupuria, who thrived on contact, would then feel threatened by it. Yuma was glad at least that despite the other’s nervy approach to unexpected contact, he was still willing to seek comfort anyway. 

A truck rolled by on the street. A chud chud sound that rattled the thin barrier of boxes that hid their little alcove of rest. Nearby a bottle rolled over, clinking away down the alley. Yuma’s ear twitched at the echoing sound until it faded out. Then it was silent once more. Despite being the middle of town, the alley was in a fairly secluded area with little human foot traffic and being the early hours only the work hard like the truck drivers would usually be on the roads now. It was certainly not Yuma’s first choice of den but it was a make do situation. After recent events, there hadn’t been time for Yuma, (still new to the area) to find a more appropriate territory. But at least it was sound enough. If you ignored the stench of human piss that is. 

When daylight rolled around, Yuma was barely aware, even as a body weight pushed against him and a paw dug into his stomach. He growled in annoyance and opened one eye only to have a tail thwack him in the face and his new companion rather rudely clambering over him to leave the confines of the nest. In his nostrils he caught the whiff of a fragrant sweetness as the other Lupuria passed over him, a sweetness that brought back memories of the day before. Along with those memories was the echo of a righteous anger that had been temporarily satiated. But it was boiling under again. Some days Yuma hated his own kind. 

As the fibres of light poured into the opened entrance way and the warmth of an extra body quickly departed into the ether, Yuma decided to follow his companion. Or rather he felt the need to check on him at least. Yuma lazily crawled out into the open air, greeting the day with a yawn and a stretch. Despite his casual demeanour though his ears were ever alert.


	3. Original Work: Serial killers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Todd here are serial killers. There is reasons as why vaguely stated here. They are anti-heroes of a sort. The story would have had them facing against an even greater killer with even less morals and a higher body count then themselves. But I have other ideas I want to spend more time on then with them.

When she entered the jail cell she had been expecting monsters. Large muscular men, bound in scars and missing limbs. Old and ugly and full of menace. The reality was far from those lively whispers. Instead she saw two average sized young men, with limbs attached, calmly concentrating over a chess board. It was… disappointing. All those stories spoken in dark rooms with fearful voices had sounded so sure. But she should have known better then to fall for such tales. She had gotten her hopes up. Clearly the reputation of these two evil men had superseded the facts. 

The facts alone though were the stuff of nightmares. The infamous Vulpes Brothers. Murderers. Torturers. Parricides. Starting from a young age they began their crusade of corpses with their parents. Roman had been fifteen at the time and his younger brother, Todd, had only just turned eleven. The bodies had barely been recognisable. From there it had gone quiet for a couple of years until they had been caught in the act of disposing of a Beggar, that quickly enabled the Authorities to connect them to two previous murders of vagrants that at the time had been unsolved. The body count quickly escalated thereafter.

The Vulpes brothers were equal opportunity killers. Nomads travelling along the forest roads were found dead in their camps. Throats slit and bodies mangled. Those in positions of Authority beset on a nightly patrol and left in pieces like breadcrumbs. Prostitutes. Merchants. Farmers. Left to rot with sightless eyes and flies partaking of their flesh. It really didn't matter much to them and it became increasingly clear that their goal was in the act of murder itself. It was only because of the trail they left that those in law were able to finally track them down. Their last act of brutality undone them. 

Whispers had led the Deputies to a large summer house on the outskirts of a town called Mistlauft. It belonged to a rather well off Businessman and his family. Sadly for the family, the authorities arrived too late to save them. Instead they found the Monster brothers brazenly walking out the front door, blood splattered their clothes and faces and “grinning like two jokers“, whilst the corpses of the businessman, his wife, their two young children and Five servants laid lifeless inside. 

The younger of the two, finally realising they had a visitor, turned to look her way. He was quite handsome with a wide boyish face that would set the heart fluttering of a nubile young girl.   
smiled in an invitation to join them. She smiled hesitantly back but couldn’t quite make it genuine as her gaze drifted from his mouth to his eyes. And in his eyes she saw perhaps a bit of truth to those rumours and their history. Unlike his smile, his eyes were anything but inviting. They were calculating and hard, studying her as you would a complex math problem. It was disconcerting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is complete but I was not very happy with it, especially the second half. Consider this the forever raw form

It had been a great night. Lots of drinking and laughing and drinking and dancing and laughing and drinking and eating and drinking… And it had even been a pleasant staggering walk back with faces red from over exuberance and smiles plastered on like Okama Make-up. Even Zoro had gotten into the mood of things and he and Sanji were being “reasonable” with each other! But despite those delightful hours of reverie it had all come crashing down when they returned to the Thousand Sunny. They stood in a row and looked at the ship. They stared hard at the ship. Very hard. Eye-wateringly so. Even the sound of a cat choking inside of Franky’s mouth could not halt their stare. The Thousand Sunny… 

After an hour of shock, Robin was the first to make a coherent sentence out of an opened mouth.   
“I believe the local Town has a fair sized Graveyard nearby that could be serviceable if the need was required.”   
Franky’s head creaked as he turned to look at the Archaeologist in silence. (His cat had expired some point around the 27 minute mark. ) His face clearly said he wanted to respond to the comment, not that he needed to say it, everyone knew his answer was going to be “definitely required”, but the very utterance of a spoken word was likely to break open the top of that SUPER volcano. He wanted to save it for someone else. Or rather for multiple someones. So he swallowed it in and just looked. 

The Thousand Sunny herself was quite unperturbed by her “new look” In fact the Lion head seemed to be smiling just a little bit more. But that could have just been because of the painted lush red lips and rosy cheeks she now adorned. Or the fact she now sported a jaunty Bonnet with flowing ribbons on one spiked mane.   
The rest of her was also decidedly happy. Bright yellow, red and Pink stripes rang alongside her every which way. And the masts had been made into giant swirly coloured barber poles in the same colours. Her sails flapped along with more ribbon like the one from the bonnet trailing down the sides in a plethora of colour. In fact ribbons of all colours flowed across her deck and everywhere else, waving at the crew below in greeting. Most interestingly was the little paper lanterns hung on every conceivable place they could be hung. Each one sporting one of three designs. The designs leaving no doubt as to the culprits identities. 

The Thousand Sunny had been designed to look like a party boat for Colour blind morons. Seriously though, they should have known better. The crew that stood staring at this terrible heinous crime that is. Looking back it was a stupid decision. A moronic decision. But it had seemed hilarious at the time. Back when they had arrived on the island and found that tavern. When the found out the specific laws of the island. When a few certain crew members had been more then a little put out by said laws. Really, looking back… 

“Sorry, so sorry. It’s not because you’re pirates. Honestly. We like pirates. Pirates make the best customers. It’s just that, well, you see, it’s quite unusual for pirates actually, but you three… (he pointed) Are not allowed in here.”   
The man rang his hands and looked decidedly uncomfortable and nervous at the faces looking back. but his eyes told them firmly he couldn’t be budged from his decision, even if it meant a maiming or worse. He flitted from one person to another waiting for a punch or an argument. What he didn't expect was laughter. His eyes practically bulged out of their sockets and he inched himself back, preparing for escape as he faced down the glee and amusement he was not expecting in return. Well at least all but three of the crew seemed to find the situation hilarious. 

The three Straw Hats he had refused entry were decidedly NOT happy but they weren't attacking at least. Not physically. If you discounted the round puppies eyes of sadness that would melt a mother’s heart like heated butter. Those eyes and the pouts. If the tavern owner had been a lesser man… NO! The law was the law and his own morals forbade it.   
“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he mumbled. (DON’T LOOK THEM IN THE EYES!) 

In the end after laughing fits had subsided to a less raucous chuckling, the Straw Hats that were allowed entry quickly decided to not waste an opportunity for revelry and merriment. After all it had been a very long few weeks on the open sea and drink and parties and banquets were always a necessity. There was a chorus if “It’s not fair,” “This rule is stupid,” and “I guess we have no choice” in reply, along with some rather less coherent and polite vocalisations mixed in, to no avail. Sanji, showing some pity, reminded them that there was Sake and Meat on the Thousand Sunny they could enjoy instead. It did little to avail their wounded pride but the temptation of meat was enough for the Captain to turn the other direction, with his grumbling two crewmates behind him.

Now those hours later and seeing the state of the ship, they all realised their massive error. Sure it had been fun to see the embarrassment of their Nakama. Sure it had been a great night. Sure the other three had seemed to grudgingly accept being denied entrance at the tavern. It really was kind of inevitable though. Having the three most childish straw hats left to their own devices and holding a grudge… 

And thus stood before them was the result of said mistake. was the day where the Mugiwara went to a Tavern and found that they had a strict age restriction. Leaving the three under twenty one to exact revenge for being abandoned.   
Luffy regretted nothing. Usopp regretted it (but still a part of him took immense glee). And Chopper apologised, therefore earning him a reprieve and a “not to listen to those two idiots”.


	5. TMNT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the beginnings of a prologue of a story where the Turtles were raised by Bishop. (and where Bishop was seriously twisted and abusive of his power.) But after writing this the idea evolved into something else that just excited me more. Working title of that is "As it Has Always Been."

It was another failure. The altered amino acid compound still refused to bind to any of the blood samples. Weeks of work wasted on yet another failed formula. 

Dr Travis felt his ire rise and almost swiped his notes across the desk and onto the floor. But he stayed his hand and sighed. Choosing to rub two fingers at the pulsing point of his forehead instead. This was bad. He needed to find a solution and the last thing he wanted to do was consult the lead doctor on the case to find it. As is he had to deal with his superior first and that was something he was not looking forward to.

The woosh of the door sliding open, stilled his heart for a beat. Dr Travis's tired eyes turned to see who had entered and felt his tension rise as he saw that very superior he was dreading calmly walking towards him. Dr Travis knew the man was expecting an answer. It was just bad timing he had decided today to find out. 

Trying to hide his apprehension, Watson turned around, straightening his labcoat and tie in the process and tried to look confident to the man in the dark glasses. Bishop

"I take it by your demeanour that there has been some progress?"

Straight to the point as always. Travis considered his answer carefully but couldn't think of any way to make it sound good. He just had to be straight with the older man and hope for the best. 

"The latest batch didn't take but I'm sure the answer is there. We've ruled out many variations already. So we can't be that far off. "

That sounded OK and partially true. It was a process of elimination after all. Travis just knew he could find the solution. But he needed time and the way Bishop's eyes crinkled ever so slightly told him he was swiftly running out. 

"You are aware Doctor that the situation is quickly becoming unattainable. The President relies on our Research to protect the Country against such foreign dangers. His patience is only marginally longer then my own."

"Yes, yes of course!" Dr Travis's voice squeaked. Feeling a flame of embarrassment even as he heard the keening appeasement in his voice.   
"I've already got three more formulas in the process of being finalised. My lab rats and I can't be too far off I assure you."

Bishop lowered his glasses and eyed the Doctor, scrutinising.

"Then you had better have them ready for testing. I am tired of the delays. You have one more week to get me answers or I'll hand you and your entire team to Baxter Stockman for live human test subjects. "

Dr Travis felt his world go white for a moment. A week?! That was barely any time at all. But he knew Bishop meant every word and the Doctor knew very well of the sort of science Stockman liked to be involved with. He had seen the results of previous 'volunteers' for the other Scientist's experiments. He swallowed hard feeling it clog in his throat.

"I guarantee it sir" He said with false confidence. Knowing he was likely facing a long death in the weeks to come. His mind whirred. He needed to tell his wife he loved her. Kiss his children good night. Settle his affairs. Not sleep for the next week.   
"I'll get right back on it."  
Bishop lost interest in the squirming scientist and let the man go back to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Dr Travis was also meant to be Don originally.


	6. One Piece : Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I debated continuing this one for a long time but ultimately I've decided it's not got legs for now as I have a feeling it would be a big project and needs a massive rewrite of what I have already. I'm also not very happy with it. I'm never happy with my writing.

There was nothing that could be done.  
Nothing to be done about it.   
But was that true?  
Did that make it right?  
Just because things happen beyond your control, did it make it Ok?  
Losing control was unforgivable. Was it?  
Even if that control was no longer his to lose?  
No it wasn’t.   
It shouldn’t be.  
Even if the impassable stood in the way, he should have still…  
There was nothing he could have done.   
Nothing he could have done.  
Nothing at all.  
Nothing…

From the bowls of hell a scream rang out. It echoed up and up. Breaking out from the very zenith and into the clouds and open sky above. Seagulls flying by, minding their own way, felt their heartbeats stall for a moment. The cry adding weight to their wings and stalling them briefly in mid-air before managing to right their way and speeding off from that terrible sound like their feathers were afire.   
It was a sound of a dream shattered into a million pieces. Of promises that had been brutalised and torn away, stomped into nothing. It was the cry of a man who had lost his very soul.

 

\-----

 

PX-1 had swept in like a cyclone. It was if seeing the world in slow motion and in fast forward at the same time. Zoro’s body had been unable to even lift a finger to stop the destruction of Luffy’s crew. His crew. It had betrayed him with an immense finality. Muscles refused to work, bone refused to bend. All that his body was willing to give was an ache in his heart and the brimming of his eyes. Zoro didn’t cry. His eyesight was just failing him as he tired to remain conscious. That was all. Tears? No. He refused them. But still his sight was blurred and his mind not quite in reality. Drifting in and out of a nightmare. 

Luffy’s screams of anger and desperation felt so far off. The Captain desperately trying to overcome the force of an Admiral to defend his Nakama. Zoro knew that feeling. Helplessness was not his nor his Captain’s friend. They had always defied that beast. But not now. PX-1 represented the beast now. 

PX-1 represented as Brook’s form crashed into a tree, the sound of bones breaking like twigs. He represented when Sanji swung his leg and found himself sailing into the ground with a bloody splash. He represented when Usopp went flying feet over nose with the flick of the monster’s finger, when Chopper, even in beastly form, was crushed into unconsciousness with fist to the head. Franky falling back, eyes going white, his right arm merely held on by few remaining wires. Nami slapped aside with a palm, lying twisted and unconscious. Robin clutching her arms with Sakura blossoms fluttering around her, before drifting into restless sleep with the others as her body falls to the ground.

PX-1 was their hopelessness. The beast Zoro had strived to slice from his back since Kuina. And here was proof. The fallen Strawhats, Zoro useless on the ground and a Captain screaming for his friends. Until even that scream vanished when the Beast seemingly appeared in two places at once, shoving his way between Captain and Admiral, striking with a mighty paw, and with a pop, Luffy and his hat vanishing. 

\------

Zoro had lost consciousness himself at some point shortly after Luffy’s vanishing. He didn’t know how long he had been out but he knew it had been long enough to have been moved aboard a ship. As the very familiar tilt of the floor beneath him testified. He tried to sit up but his body still refused to obey such a simple request so instead he cracked an eye open to gather himself. From his tilted view, his tired eyes took stock of a hull and bars blocking his eye line. The backs of two Marines in their stark whites told him the rest of the story. It wasn’t some terrible dream that had happened. It had all been real and Zoro felt the chill of what it all meant. Luffy was gone. Dead even. He didn’t know for sure. As for the others…

Panic stiffened his spine and Zoro’s gaze turned away from glaring at the marines to searching keenly the rest of the area. Relief was palpable as he quickly counted the seven other occupants in various cells. They were silent and sombre and some in terrible condition but they were alive. And together. For now. Everything else was another matter. Despite his initial relief Zoro couldn’t help feel the weight of reality settle down. Luffy was gone. Zoro was now acting captain and his first role was seeing the crew and himself, chained to a darkened Marine ship and heading to a place that bore tales of nightmares far worse then what they had just gone through. Well, shit. 

It could have been days or weeks that they sailed under a dark cloud. No-one spoke. Their souls and dreams blown away with their beloved Captain. Every one ruminating and sinking into despair. Even the marines guarding their captives shifted uneasily during their watch as the malaise clouded over like a brewing storm. The Mugiwaras were spent, done, deflated, lost.   
It may as well have been a room full of corpses. 

Every so often the long wait was interspersed with a Marine doctor making the rounds. Zoro would have tried to make their escape during this weakness of compassion on the marine’s part but the opportunity was null and void before it could begin. Even if they escaped the hold, half the crew were in no fit state to walk let alone fight off a whole Marine Armada and even if they considered such a task there were the guards holding guns to heads to kowtow any rebellion. Not as if they had the will anyway.

Injuries were patched with silent winces and the occasional glare. Zoro let the doctor bandage his injuries and ply him medicines. He couldn’t rouse the others but he could let the Doctor be foolish enough to help recover his weakened body and hope that time and a stronger body would aid them later. Yet still it was a humiliation. Chopper was their doctor, not this rat faced, drink of water that cared not for being gentle or considerate. Chopper himself was chained to his own cell and could only sniffle snot as he watched another do a poor job on his friends. His body like Zoro had taken punishment for pushing beyond it’s limits and he could barely move to even grasp between bars to fix the shoddy bandaging or better heal their injuries. 

Time was passed in a daze of impending doom. Franky spent his time reaffixing his torn arm back to the rest of him. It was wince worthy to think how much worse it would have been if Franky had been flesh and blood. The Guards warily watched the Cyborg, as if he would turn from his less then super self into a rampaging Pacifista. But it didn’t happen. Without his Cola, Franky was just as vulnerable as the rest of them. Zoro could tell it frustrated the shipwright something fierce. At least the repairs on his body kept him busy and concentrated. 

Sanji on the other hand had no such luxury to keep him preoccupied. In fact he was probably the one struggling the most. He hadn’t had a smoke since they had been locked up. Had been refused when he dared to ask. The withdrawal must have been killing him. The food served for prisoners also brought his ire to the front as well. How dare they serve his friends such rot that was barely food at all. It hurt him more that Nami, Robin and the others were being fed this slop then his own pride and broken body. (His pummelling to the ground had broken ribs and his leg) All of the above would have sent Sanji into a seering rage of attack had Zoro not managed to give the cook a look. Demanding the man hold off his fury. Zoro needed a right hand of command. He needed Sanji grounded for the rest of them. One look at their friends was all Sanji needed to quell that flame to a low boil. 

Robin on the outset seemed the least injured and the most composed of the Straw Hats. But they all knew better. Especially after Enies Lobby. Her arms had thankfully not been broken in the fight but were still marred by less then pretty bruises that formed like two large hands. But they were only superficial even if they had been broken. It was what was inside the demon child’s head that was truly damaged. It was like fate was clawing away at her. No matter what she did, no matter what she sacrificed it wanted her. She had given it all up for her Nakama. But it was cruel and unshakeable. It was worse now too. A fate she had once accepted to protect them all ,was now a fate none of them could escape. It was a mistress of cold dark. 

Brook, Usopp, Nami… Brook was somehow still alive. His bones had spindled with cracks and fractures. A network of scars for all to see. He looked less a skeleton and more like some shoddy artists design of one. It seemed like even a weak punch would shatter his body apart now. If Brook had any pain he did not show it but his mostly silence and lack of skull jokes was unsettling. Usopp and Nami both sported some rather eclectic bruising and swelling to their faces. Nami with an eye near closed and Usopp with yet another broken nose. Other then that, like Robin they were mostly uninjured. But they were shaky. Literally in the Sniper’s case as his knees knocked almost constantly even in his sleep. Nami had cried enough for a lifetime in her cell and spent most of it now contemplated and sighing. Both of them were terrified in their own ways. 

Yet even the least suffering of them would not be in that state for long. The days and weeks that passed on that trip had to arrive somewhere and soon enough Impel Down’s shadow loomed. 

\---

Impel Down proved to be a quick and brutal introduction to what they assumed was the rest of their lives. The Guards that had held them in disregard aboard the Marine ship that sailed them here were angels in comparison to the staff that ran the prison of hell.   
Old injuries were reopened and new ones added in the brutality. It was harsh and unrelenting and then the screaming began as every prisoner took their turn of being sterilised. It rushed by so fast and furious that no-one had time to even consider permanent separation until they were eventually forced back together to await sentencing and the reality that they had almost lost each other came to realisation. Not that time was gracious here either. Wounds were barely licked and comfort in being together barely taken, when Judgement fell full force upon the weary crew. 

It’s the moment Zoro feels like he’s failed completely. There had been hope inside of him up until this point, there had been the outside chance to escape before now. Or so he told himself. Zoro forgot the reasons that halted an escape plan on the ship. Deliberately it seemed. The sky and sea had tempted and promised of hopes long dashed. He had allowed that to crack over the truth he denied. But now. With only the force of judgement staring down at his (Luffy’s) crew he couldn’t deny it any longer. They had been doomed the moment Kuma had appeared and it killed the swordsman inside. He could do nothing about it. He had failed his Captain, again! 

The warden shuffled through the files he had received. Alternating between studying them and eyeing the Straw Hats with contempt. It took an age for him to consider and appraise his latest arrivals and the wait was torture unto itself. But the wait was also a blessing as it kept them together for a little longer until the Warden settled on a decision. 

Robin and Franky: Level 6  
Robin’s knowledge, her link to Ohara was more then enough to send her to that particular level. She took the sentence with her recent scarily silent stoicism and stood wiling to face it as best she could. Franky was a bit more of a surprise but the Warden was more then gleeful to explain to the Cyborg and the rest that his potential knowledge of Pluton was too much a risk and besides, his body would make for interesting experimentation. It was either Robin’s weak lost smile saying goodbye or Franky’s enraged shout that set them all off but the uproar started almost immediately.

It was a very brief rebellion all in all. Zoro didn’t take part, already accepting his failure but willing to let their others cling to their false hopes. He merely detached himself as the guards swept in, brow beat the others into submission and watched as Franky and Robin disappeared from sight. Gone. Like Luffy. Like they soon all would be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to write something in the Voltron universe ages ago. Had an idea. Wrote barely a paragraphs worth. Got distracted. Lost interest in writing the plot idea. And just decide to post the minimal content here rather then just die on my PC. The concept was about Pidge's gender identity. Or rather that she was coming to accept she wanted to be Pidge the boy and not Katie the girl but after being attacked and sexually assaulted (not raped. Possibly saved by one of the other Paladins before it got to that) and in the attack being treated as a female victim. Pidge then had to deal with both the trauma of that attack and what it meant for him/her as a person. 
> 
> I just decided it was a heck of a lot of complexities to write and I feel like I am woefully unable to provide a fair story in the issues involved. After all I've only very recently come to the conclusion I may well be demigirl. Possibly. Heck I'm not even certain I'm asexual.

“Pidge, are you in there?” Allura said quietly as she gently tapped the closed door. She listened for a moment, hoping to hear any sign of life but she was met with silence. She bit her lip, worrying. 

They had all agreed to give Pidge some space after what happened but after not seeing the Green Lion paladin in three days they had come to a consensus that one of them needed to make the first move. They all felt Allura was the best person for the job. Shiro had wanted to, insisted and demanded even, but things that had been left unspoken forced the Black Lion pilot to back down. Shiro's face of helpless anger and the new dent in one of the walls only mirrored their own frustrations. There was no doubt that Allura was probably the only one of them Pidge was likely to face right now. 

Allura couldn't say herself if she was up to the task. She was as out of her depth as the others. This was a new ugly bitter reality that even after losing her entire planet was a cruelty she could not comprehend.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just badly written imo. Ended up too introductory for the cats. Not how I wanted to start this Cat's idea. Taking the Cat's musical and putting a hefty dose of real cat mythology into it. It's intended to be a murder mystery starring Alonzo trying to find why the cats at the Jellicle yard are starting to die under mysterious circumstances. The first being Grizabella found not far from the junkyard stiff and dried foam at the mouth. Clearly having died in some internal agony. And when I say real cat mythology I mean incest, feral behaviour, real cat sex with all the gnarly bells. In fact yeah it's heavily inspired by Felidae as well.

On the corner of Duke Lane and Percival Avenue lies Jerrie's Junkyard. Better known as the Jellicle Junkyard by the locals. A place where vehicles of all types go to rest and junk accumulates like leaves in autumn, a treasure trove of trash. It was run by an overweight middle aged man, the eponymous Jerrie. Known less by his work ethic and more by his gambling parties with his drinking buddies. The mountain of beer cans testimony to how much partying he actually did on the site. 

Normally such a junkyard would have a ferocious dog on site to protect the rank and file of errant goods but Jerrie was far too lazy to care for a dog, even in defence of his property. So without any immediate canine activity the cats took over. Jerrie liked the cats, they killed the rats that liked to sneak into his trailer and nibble his toes. He was even kind enough to throw some lose kibble for the felines; but only when he bothered to. Other then that he let the cats be. It was preferable to both. 

For the cats the Junkyard was their whole world. A world full of takeaway food and leftovers and handy sleeping spots. A world of fun and relative peace from dogs and rowdy people. A world of hiding spots and sunning places. A world of life and of death, of sex and fighting, of injuries and disease untreated. It was not a great life but it was at least interesting for whatever time it gave them.  
During his many drunken ramblings, Jerrie would imagine the names of the cats on his property. Strange names would trickle across his alcohol addled brain and be forgotten when the next day's hangover took root. As if they were so secret they could only be touched by man in his moments of madness or dreams. 

If he could remember their names it would be thus.  
The large old Tom that wore his tattered battle worn ears as marks of superiority and held the Junkyard throne was Deuteronomy. The only cat with an actual name known by humans. He had been named by an old coot who tended to recite Bible verses at everybody and anybody including the cat himself. The old man had since died but the name stuck for his feline listener. Not that Deuteronomy the cat was remotely divine like his namesake. The old grizzled feline was a harsh ruler of the Junkyard regularly cuffing the younger cats and fighting off males with an intent to take his females. He was not kind, he was not even very fair, but he was respected.

The oldest cat of the Junkyard was Gus. A skinny grey cat with bones and ribs showing. He was prone to walking into things and picked on by the kittens in a game of touch and run. The old creature would have died long ago if not for the kindness of some of the females who shared their catches and groomed his patchy fur.  
Jennyanydots and Jellyorum were Deuteronomy's two favourite Queens. Jellylorum was a motherly fertile female who had given the King many offspring. Whilst Jennyanydots was spayed but happy to splay herself to her King's desires in the hopes of one day bearing her own litter but hoping in vain. And she loved the kits that would never be hers. 

Of the kittens that Jellylorum had birthed three had lived to adulthood and stayed within or around the Junkyard area. Munkustrap was the eldest. A fine grey that was loved by most of the cats. Unlike his father, he was kind and fair and gentle when need be. If not for the fact he was also loyal to his father, the Old King would have considered chasing him out. He was jealous of his title, even towards his own offspring. 

From a litter of a year later was Macavity. A cat of ill repute, whether warranted or not. Unlike his older brother this cat was not welcome to the Junkyard.


End file.
